


Good Food, High Views

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Festivals, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Nyx likes this festival. As much as he likes this nerdy side of Noct.





	Good Food, High Views

“…though a lot of people argue that the franchise died with Ezio, there’s still a generous cult favoring of Three, and while Black Flag was a departure from the foundations of the whole narrative, who doesn’t have fun being a pirate, right, and…”

“Now… ‘Three’ isn’t actually the third game they made? It’s the…” Nyx squeezed his eyes shut and scrunched up his nose, rifling back through the volumes of trivia Noctis had deluged onto him since they’d driven up to the brightly lit banners decorating Lestallum. “It’s the fifth? In the main entries, at least.”

Noct’s eyes sparkled like two blue firecrackers, bursting with delight at having been heard and not just indulged with his fanatic ramblings. It brought a smile to Nyx’s face.

He’d never seen Noctis quite so animated before. Sure, he’d seen him excited about plenty of his passions: his determined and borderline maniacal grin when he was reeling in a big fish; his child-like enamor with the pinball he guided around the luminescent machines in the corners of the diners they frequented on the road; his laughter, as soft and full as a breath of clouds when a chocobo claimed him as its best friend.

This festival in particular though, had incited an even more vibrant enthusiasm in him than usual. The massive crowd of hooded figures filling the central thoroughfare had made him jump to his feet in the back seat of the Regalia, eyes as big as two full moons as he took in all of the lights and the vendors and the bits of confetti shimmering in the hot Lestallum air. Once he donned his own robes – a custom-made costume that magically appeared in the trunk of the car and only Noctis seemed to know was there the whole time – he couldn’t drag Nyx and Prompto off to explore fast enough.

After he’d burned off a small country’s reserves of energy running from attraction to attraction, Noctis finally leveled out just enough to sit still for more than five minutes. The gossip lure thrown out from the crowds they weaved through pulled him off on a detour for Galahdian food. He gave Nyx a hopeful look, eager to taste what the thrown up café considered “all the rage in Galahd.”

“Do they stand up to the real thing?” Noctis asked, taking a much-needed breather for the both of them from his verbal encyclopedia of Assassin knowledge.

Nyx sheared off another tender bite of meat from the skewer, keeping a careful eye on the talkative server behind the café counter. He was a little _too_ eager to please and Nyx feared that if he heard a whisper of criticism for his dish, Nyx would be trapped in an overlong discussion about how to make it better. Once the man was occupied with serving a pickier child than even Noctis, Nyx gave his verdict.

“Not bad, but as much as I hate to break this to you, that dive with your favorite dancing mascot does them better.”

“ _What?_ You can’t know that! We didn’t even try them!”

The sight of Kenny Crow and his innocuous gyrating had turned Noctis right back around when they’d wandered into the grill. Nearly gave Nyx whiplash with how hard he’d gripped his wrist and ran them all out of there. While he hadn’t been able to _see_ the food on sale, Nyx could _smell_ true Galahdian home-cooking, smoking on the grill. The dull glimmer of the chef’s golden bangle gave Nyx even more hope that he might be from the eastern islands himself – it was a common accessory in the drier regions of Galahd.

None of that was to say that the temporary café’s incarnation of semur skewers was inedible. Nyx was enjoying them a great deal, even more so when Noctis allowed one of the blistered tomatoes to slip across his tongue. The cardboard cut-out of Malboro-kun marked the dish as a copycat of the traditional meal, but that was all it was: an imitation. It had the right taste, but it didn’t have the right fire, a secret that only the Galahdian born seemed to have mastered.

Noctis sighed across the table, cheeks full of the garlicky meat and dimpling in a smile. “Fine, fine. We can go back and try it. Just… don’t let that _thing_ within ten feet of me.”

“I’ve kept you safe from daemons and wild animals and _actual_ assassins” – Noctis gave him an _appalled_ look – “I think I can keep you from being accosted by a dude in a bird costume.”

Noctis was still wary, looking around at the avian plush stuffed in every corner of the overlook and feeling much safer amongst the inanimate creatures and the children playing assassin-themed games beneath the golden glow of the strung up lanterns. Nyx grinned, leaning forward against the plastic table.

“You telling me the Master Assassin of Lestallum can’t take out a creepy little crow in a dark alley?”

Noct’s eyes focused back on him, glaring at the crooning mockery in his voice. Pressing his elbows to the table, he leaned in close to meet the challenge, the corner of his lips pulling into a smirk.

“With my fearsome Medjay rogue at my side? Of course not. You wouldn’t let me go after such a high profile mark without backing me up now, would you?”

“So long as it doesn’t compromise the Brotherhood, I think I could tag along.”

The sultry crook of Noct’s competitive smile softened. His guilty, geeky pleasures often earned Noctis scorn (the _Prince_ , endorsing a narrative of _murder_ in order to _overthrow a governing body?_ Unacceptably inappropriate!) He was reserved with his likes around people he didn’t know. Nyx still remembered the nervous blush on his face the first time he’d asked to show him the B-movie adaptation of King’s Knight. And he remembered the thrill in his voice whenever Nyx had asked him questions about a particular scene and didn’t laugh at him for the long-winded explanation behind it.

Nyx liked whatever made Noctis happy. He didn’t always understand it, but he didn’t always need to. Besides that, he got to walk around in skin-baring sashes and enchant the eye of an already infatuated prince, all while under the guise of being unimportant tourists to the city. They didn’t have to hide their romance when they were incognito, their identities cloaked beneath a classic white hood.

“What do you say we give Prompto something to do and you come with me to sample a local delicacy?”

Noct’s eyes raked over the tanned flesh braced to the close warm air from beneath the leather straps of his costume. Nyx leaned back in his chair, casually stretching his arms above his head and satisfying the Prince’s stare with a better view. Noct’s teeth sunk into his lower lip, suppressing a possessive growl when Nyx’s languid movements attracted the unsubtle glances of cosplaying strangers, as well.

Prompto was filming the death-defying feats of the most daring “assassins” at the Leap of Faith. Noctis hastily told him to explain to Holly the effects of a camera’s aperture settings until they got back and rushed after Nyx when the glaive suddenly bolted through the crowd. They’d make the abrupt abandonment up to Prompto later – besides, he would be happily occupied taking pictures and talking shop until they rejoined him.

“What are you doing?” Noctis called after Nyx.

Laughter chased Nyx through the narrow alleys, the beautiful sound captured between the close walls and tangling around the old blue pipes that Nyx gripped and scaled up to the cluttered Lestallum rooftops. A soft, ruffling warp of the warm air followed him across the tight apartments, far above the earthbound lovers clutched in steamy corners.

Heat and scent wafted up from the alleys and the pipelines, spicy and tangy and damp and smoky. The higher he let Noctis chase him, the clearer the air became. The lanterns and the webs of lights turned to delicate streaks. The town was burnished a rosy gold beneath the crimson banners and yellow streaks. The confetti that collapsed from nowhere looked like scarlet starlight over the streetlamps.

Nyx liked this festival. He liked the heat, and the fragrance of cook-fired meats, and the anonymity of the patrons, and the exultant joy of a people celebrating liberation and peaceful prosperity even in times as hopelessly bleak beneath the shadow of the Empire as they were now. He wasn’t sure if he believed the legend of the Assassin as a solitary figure of heroism for ancient Lestallum, but he believed in what he represented, fiction or not. He believed in the defiance of the impossible and the passion of a people deserving of peace. He believed in wiping out oppression for the sake of what he saw down below: children in white hoods hugging stuffed eagles, pirate assassins snuggling with renaissance assassins by the glittering fountain in the Leville’s square, the giggles of girls under Gladio’s glistening arm, the open-mouthed awe of a crowd as Ignis traipsed over the Crossing, the shy admiration of passing strangers as Prompto beamed and flashed his camera at every little detail.

And Noct, unburdened by his fears and his grief, leaping across rooftops after him like a child on a playground. Nyx would happily honor this Assassin for giving him that.

He swerved around a corner, out of Noct’s line of sight, and quietly crept into the nearest dumpster until the Prince rushed by. Nyx peered out at him from the slit between the lid and the can, watching him heave in air and press his palms against his knees before straightening back up and casting about on the rooftop.

When his back was turned, Nyx slipped out into the open and swept an arm along his back, spinning Noctis around and catching him in a kiss. The little surprised hum made Nyx smile against his lips, pressing his body closer. Noctis needed no urging to sink against him, hands clutched around Nyx’s bared biceps, back curling over the arm that had trapped him. He tasted of spiced meat and adrenaline, his heart thumping against Nyx’s chest. He let Noctis breathe, chuckling at the breathless gasp between them as he finished chasing his own breath.

“Killed you with a kiss?”

“Almost,” Noctis sighed, cheeks flushed and eyes bright from the warping run.

The city and its festive splendor spread out beneath them, glittering in the moonlight. Drums and strings and flutes lilted up to them, as enticing as the faraway smells from Tostwell’s Grill in the corner of the city. Peanut sauce and hot n’ spicy pepper sauce and curried rice and barbeque. All as tantalizing as his beloved assassin master in his arms, teasing more kisses out of him when he could catch his breath.

“Head back to the Leville when we’re done?” Noctis asked, voice hoarse with a hunger for all that the festival inspired out of Nyx.

Great food, high views, and a wild assassin prince. Nyx never wanted to leave.


End file.
